


The Tale(s) of Angelica Schuyler

by Amber_Lee, Sheridan_Hope



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angelica and Laurens are accidentally therapists, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relationship Drama!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-18 09:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Lee/pseuds/Amber_Lee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheridan_Hope/pseuds/Sheridan_Hope
Summary: Alexander and Eliza's wedding. A place of joy and happiness for all but two. Angelica is feeling the sting of envy as she delivers her speech, and the suddenly, it's too much. She escapes to the balcony to be alone, but -- surprise surprise -- she isn't! Who should be there but Lt. Col. John Laurens, who she finds slumped over the railing, crying. Motherly instincts kicking in, Angelica attempts to help Laurens sort out his feelings and gets a lot more than she bargained for. Essentially, The Tale(s) of Angelica Schuyler are stories with the above setup and varying outcomes. In some, the eldest Schuyler is understanding, while in others, she's confused, angry, or downright homophobic. So buckle up, ladies and gentlemen and all others in between. Get ready for LAMS, relationship drama, unnecessary crying, and various degrees of anguish.(Just a side note: All letter excerpts are as close to accurate as I could make them, but I took some creative liberties in the blank spaces. I needed LAMS fuel. So, sorry history nerds. The assumptions hurt my soul, but the blanks hurt more, so ... sorry. Don't kill me. AN: I have now seen ciceroprofacto's guess as to what the blanks are, and will attempt to use it in later stories.)





	1. Tale Number One

_This is it._

As Angelica Schuyler took her place at the podium, wineglass clenched in her right hand, she took a cursory look around the room.

It was a spacious one, to be certain. High, vaulted ceiling supported by marble columns and buttresses. Tall arched windows lined the length. In the middle, occupying most of the floor, were four long tables. Three were packed with people of all ages, the only unifying link being their smiling faces and teary eyes. The fourth was reserved for food, and the occasional slender-necked bottle of the finest wine the kitchen staff had on hand.

There was a small child being ushered out the back door.

He was crying.

Angelica sighed.

She felt she was about the only one who felt a cloud of gloom envelope her when she first caught wind of the wedding. A sinking feeling as the pit of her stomach dropped and refused to come back up.

The only one who wasn’t excited about her sister’s union to the famed Alexander Hamilton.

Of course, it was probably the best arrangement possible. Beneficial to both parties, plus the fact that both genuinely loved each other made it one of the most politically and privately sensational weddings of the colonies.

And Angelica just couldn’t bring herself to be happy. For either of them.

She knew the nagging jealousy she felt was only childish. Worth nothing.

But it hadn’t gone away.

And that was what bothered her. The fact that she, a sensible woman of great renown, could be consumed by such a low emotion.

That it was her sister she envied made it all the worse.

Her feet dragged as she ascended the steps to the parapet. The smiling faces felt accusatory. Mocking. They were salt in a paper cut.

They made it sting that much more as she opened her mouth.

“A toast to the groom …” she began, raising her glass to the sky.

The pre-planned sentences were heavy as she spoke them, proclaiming her sisterly pride to the world. The templated expressions, the organized jokes, they were weights on her senses.

She could barely stand lying, and lying to Eliza -- not to mention herself -- made her nerves sing and her head spin.

 _When did all of this get so out of hand?_ she wondered as her speech carried on without her really having to think about it. When no answer was forthcoming, she began to pay attention to her own words again.

“ … may you always …” Her toast was winding down, the energy dissipating, so as she spoke the last melancholy words, it was all Angelica could do to force down the anger before it came. To choke back the frustrated tears. To swallow her jealousy before it tore her apart.

Instead, she grinned.

Genuinely.

On the final word, she saw Eliza turn to look at her. She was beaming. And when Alexander reached down to kiss her cheek, the room erupted in applause. Partially for the toast, and partially for the newlyweds’ gesture.

Angelica stepped away from the podium, remembering to reclaim her wineglass at the last possible second. Her mind was elsewhere.

Someone came up to congratulate her. She blew by him without a second thought. Her destination was the doors to the balcony, and nothing could slow her down. She knew she had to go -- to get some fresh air -- or else the ensuing hysteria would not be as private as she liked.

As she moved, she felt various people brush by her. Even Eliza rested a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off and kept moving.

As she shouldered open the doors to her place of solace, the warm glow of candlelight faded, the shouts of revelry died, and quiet consumed all.

She only barely noticed that the chair just to Alexander’s right was empty.

 

The New York City horizon was dark, the sun having set hours ago. The sky was inky blue, a smattering of stars visible through the late night fog drifting up from the angular patches of darkness that were buildings. The rivers sparkled like diamonds.

It was beautiful.

“It’s so amazing, isn’t it?” she asked of no one in particular.

She certainly did not expect a response.

“I suppose,” said a voice.

Angelica jumped. She hadn’t seen anyone on the balcony when she’d arrived. But as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she could make out a form slumped over the railing, coat flapping in the breeze.

She couldn’t tell who it was, for the moment, but when the figure’s head lifted up from it’s crossed arms to face her, she could.

There was only one person she knew with that curly hair. Those freckles, splashed across the bridge of his nose.

It was Laurens. Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens.

Alexander’s best man. Best  _friend_.

He was crying. The tears caught the faint moonlight as they ran in rivulets down the older man’s cheeks. As Angelica stared, he passed the sleeve of his coat over his face, hastily wiping them away.

As if she _hadn’t_ noticed.

“Well,” he began, straightening himself out, “I should probably get back to the party. I’ll leave you alone, I guess.”

He attempted to push past Angelica to rejoin the banquet, but she barred his path with an outstretched arm.

“Nope. Not on my watch. You clearly have something you need to talk about. Come on. Talk to me.” She pulled over a few chairs that had been left sitting out. Their cushions were old and rotting, and a few were eaten or laced with mold, but Angelica felt that she had a responsibility to herself and to Laurens to help him figure this out.

Laurens protested. “I’m fine! Honestly! And …” He hesitated. “Are you really in the best shape to be helping me?”

“What do you mean?” Angelica asked, growing defensive.

“Well …” Laurens gestured helplessly at her face. Angelica pressed her fingers to her cheekbone and was surprised to find that they came back wet with tears.

She giggled, surprising herself.

Laurens smiled almost imperceptibly. “I guess you could use my help, too.”

Angelica laughed, dropping into one of the chairs. “I suppose I could.”

“Okay then,” Laurens replied. He winked as he settled into the chair across from her, and Angelica hoped he couldn’t see her blush through the darkness.

An easy silence settled between them, during which they gathered their courage, or perhaps formulated better lies about their current situations. After a while, however, the silence turned tense, where each person dared the other with only their eyes to speak. It was really getting too much for Angelica.

“Okay, so--”

“So, here’s what--”

They both stopped abruptly upon realizing the other had spoken.

Angelica blushed harder while Laurens ran a hand through his fluffy ringlets apologetically. It was really kind of adorable.

“You go first,” Angelica offered kindly.

Across the way, she thought she saw Laurens tense.

“No, you go,” he countered.

“You are the man in this situation, _and_ I asked first. You go.”

“ _As_ the man in this situation, shouldn’t I have the final say? _You_ go.”

“But you have certain obligations. Wouldn’t want to make a lady uncomfortable, would you?” Angelica said, fluttering her eyelashes in mock distress. Laurens looked distinctly embarrassed by her gesture, so she settled back in her seat and looked at him expectantly.

He closed his eyes, then opened them to stare at the heavens. The constellations shone in his soft blue irises.

 _He really was beautiful_ , Angelica thought.

But before she could continue her train of thought, the colonel’s loud sigh brought her back to reality.

“I suppose I ought to go first,” he said, looking somber. “But …” he added, “you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone what you heard here tonight.” He looked Angelica in the eyes, and she felt the immensity of his statement hit her like a kick to the chest.

“I won’t,” she replied. “And I should ask the same of you, if it’s not too much.”

“I swear I won’t tell a soul what was discussed,” Laurens said, holding out a hand. Angelica took it tentatively, and with that shake, an agreement was born.

“So,” Laurens began, sitting back in his rapidly disintegrating chair. “I have a problem.”

“Yes? Continue,” Angelica said, urging him forward.

“I … I’m … Look, I’m sorry. You go first.”

Angelica was mildly nonplussed by his rapid loss of confidence, but she took it in stride.

“Okay then. Um … Well …” And suddenly she understood. Going first was always difficult. She could say something the he might not like, and he could choose to remain closed off. She opened herself up to judgement.

It was nerve wracking, to say the very least of it.

“Okay, so … um … I also have a problem. Lt. Col., I’m sure you understand. Or at least, I think you do, but--”

Laurens held up a hand. “John is fine. Or Jack. That’s what my friends call me.”

Angelica giggled breathlessly. John looked at her quizzically. She stopped.

“Sorry, it’s just nerves.”

“I get it. So. Problem?”

“Yeah, um … How do I say this …”

“I won’t judge. Just go ahead.”

Angelica took a deep breath. The night air was cold, and it soothed her lungs. But, unfortunately for her dignity, it was also tinged with smog, and a fit of coughing consumed her.

It took several minutes for it to die down, and by the time her spasms ceased, her chest was sore, and her face was red and tear-streaked, and John was laughing himself stupid in his chair.

She glared at him, but the force was taken away when she herself devolved into snickering. It really was a ridiculous situation.

She wasn’t really sure what brought them back to their normal selves, but there was now a mutual understanding, a camaraderie that wasn’t there before that made the whole experience more bearable.

“So,” Angelica began, sobering up. “My problem.”

John nodded.

“I …” _Come on, you can do this. Just get it over with._ “I’m not happy about this wedding.”

John chuckled. “Well, obviously. Why? Is it because you’re scared for your sister? Do you think Alexander isn’t good enough for her? Because I can vouch for his honor and trustworthiness. He’s a good man, and--”

Angelica silenced him with a finger. “It’s not any question about Alexander’s strength of character. God knows it’s not that. It’s …” And here, the words failed her. But John seemed to know what she was trying to convey.

A look of understanding dawned in his eyes, and he leaned back in his chair.

“I see.”

“You do?” Angelica asked skeptically.

John bowed his head. “I do.”

Here, he hesitated. “You love him, don’t you?”

Angelica gave a small smile, feeling completely and utterly defenseless.

“I do. I really do. But …”

“It’s for the better this way, I suppose,” John said wistfully, staring off into the distance.

“What do you mean?”

John’s gaze swivelled back and found her. “I guess you could say I’m in a similar situation.”

Angelica acknowledged this with a tilt of the head as she found the only possible meaning of his words.

“You love Eliza.”

John looked shocked. “What? No, no, I … I …” He sagged in his chair like a marionette whose strings had been cut. “I …”

He was struggling to speak through the tears.

Angelica puzzled over what he’d said. He was in her situation, but didn’t love Eliza. In her situation, but didn’t love Eliza. Didn’t love Eliza, didn’t love Eliza, didn’t …

Angelica gasped as the answer came to her like a punch to the gut. She felt the air rush out of her lungs as she looked disbelievingly at the man across the balcony from her.

John was bracing himself in his chair, looking at Angelica. She could tell that he knew that she had figured it out, and was expecting anger or outrage or something of that nature.

But all she could seem to do was stare.

John Laurens was in love with Alexander Hamilton.

_John Laurens was in love with Alexander Hamilton._

She could barely believe it. That just didn’t happen. This … didn’t … _happen_.

She looked at John again, searching for any clue that he was different. Normally, she had such a good read on people, but he had slipped through her notice. In a last-ditch effort to understand, she reviewed every interaction she’d ever had with him, looking for hints.

There was only one suggestive memory. The ball.

While Alexander and some of his crew had been toying with the ladies present, Laurens had been slumped against the back wall, watching. In his hand, he had held a glass of amber liquid, which he sloshed apathetically. At the time, Angelica thought he’d just been surveying the party, and his red face had been because of the alcohol (Laurens had been a notorious drunkard until he met Alexander), but looking back on it, she realized he’d been following Alexander with his eyes, and he was red faced with … _attraction. Possessiveness_.

She knew the feeling well.

“Now, I know you’re probably going to get mad, but please, hear me out,” Laurens (Not John. _Laurens_. She didn’t know him anymore.) begged, looking at her with pleading eyes.

Angelica crossed her arms. “Yes?”

Laurens licked his lips nervously. “Are you mad? You look mad.”

“I’m not. Just … confused. When did this happen?”

“When did what happen?”

“When did you become … what you are?”

Laurens’s face twisted in offence. “I’ve always been like this. Nothing _did_ this to me.”

“But …”

“Listen. This is the truth. Someone needs to hear this because …” He sighed. “Not even Alexander knows this. Well, not to the full extent, anyway.”

Angelica pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Not even Alexander knew? She guessed it made sense, but still.

“I’ve loved Alexander …” He looked to the sky, mentally sorting out the chronology. “Since the first time we met.”

“Okay …”

“We were young at the time. Well, younger than we are now,” he added with a wry smirk. “Alexander was new to the colonies. Fresh off a ship from the Caribbean, with dreams of grandeur to boot. He was whip-smart, we could all tell, but Queen’s College turned him down. When we met, he was ready for a scholarship to King’s College, and he was chasing that thing like his life depended on it.”

Laurens’s eyes lit up as he told the story. “He was nineteen, I was twenty-two. We met in a bar when I was there with Lafayette and Mulligan. He was making a scene over Aaron Burr. They’d gotten in an argument, and we were there to back him up. We’ve been friends ever since. But I’d always wished for more. And, for a while, I thought I was going to get it.”

“What do you mean? You can’t possibly think he had an interest in you. I mean, he married Eliza!”

“But that’s just it!” Laurens insisted. “I think he did. The first time we met, he was his usual charismatic and flirtatious self. And I reciprocated, you know. I mean, that’s what you do when you find someone of a similar …” He searched for the word. “ _Disposition_. And before I knew it, we were taking a walk on a night much like this one through the streets of New York City. We’d left the others back at the bar because Mulligan had gotten himself hammered and was in no shape to go home alone.”

Angelica rolled her eyes at the image, and Laurens chuckled.

“Anyway, things were discussed and … well … you know how it is.”

Angelica’s eyes went wide. “He _kissed_ you?”

“What!? No, of course not. But it sounded like he wanted to.” Laurens sighed. “I wish he had.”

Angelica frowned. “This all sounds circumstantial. A product of wishful thinking.” She paused. “I mean, maybe it was the alcohol talking. Neither of you were in you right minds. You’d been drinking. You can’t really trust anything from that night. I’m not convinced.”

Laurens cast his eyes downward. “I figured you wouldn’t be.”

“Look, I won’t say anything, but I still don’t really believe you.”

“No no, I get it. But, I think I can show you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Angelica said, getting ready to stand.

“I know, I know, but … just … look at this.” Laurens frantically dug through the inner pockets of his coat. Angelica watched with a neutral expression, which only changed to bemusement once he produced a small sheaf of papers.

“These are some letters Alexander wrote me a few years ago. I carry them with me now because, for a short time, they gave me hope that we might have a future together. Now, I just carry them as a reminder of the man he once was.”

Angelica hesitantly accepted the bundle, which was secured with a small ribbon. At her confused look, Laurens clarified, “Alexander’s hair tie. He gifted it to me as a token of appreciation.”

“Ah.” She carefully untied the bow and placed it in the older man’s outstretched hand. The papers themselves were thin and worn at the corners, and filled with small, cramped handwriting.

 _Definitely Alexander’s_ , she thought with dismay.

The first letter was yet another mental blow.

 

“ _Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that ’till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me._ ”

 

Angelica was shocked. She had certainly not expected this from someone as sensible as Alexander. As the panic rose, she scanned the letters, only catching bits and pieces of phrases.

 

“-- _we love your character, and admire your military merit, cannot fail to give some of us uneasy sensations. But in this, my Dear J I wish you to understand me well._ ”

 

“ _If you should not readily meet with a lady that you think answers my description you can only advertise in the public papers and doubtless you will hear of many competitors for most of the qualifications required, who will be glad to become candidates for such a prize as I am. To excite their emulation, it will be necessary for you to give an account of the lover—his_ size _, make, quality of mind and_ body _, achievements, expectations, fortune, &c. In drawing my picture, you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I--_”

 

There was more, but Angelica was too embarrassed to linger on what the letter revealed about Alexander's private life.

She moved along.

 

“ _After reviewing what I have written, I am ready to ask myself what could have put it into my head to hazard this Jeu_ de follie _. Do I want a wife? No—I have plagues enough without desiring to add to the number that greatest of all; and if I were silly enough to do it, I should take care how I employ a proxy. Did I mean to show my wit? If I did, I am sure I have missed my aim. Did I only intend to frisk? In this I have succeeded, but I have done more. I have gratified my feelings, by lengthening out the only kind of intercourse now in my power with my friend. Adieu_

_Yours._

_A Hamilton_ ”

 

“ _My Dr. Laurens in perfect confidence I whisper a word in your ear._ ”

 

“ _I acknowledge but one letter from you, since you left us, of the 14th of July which just arrived in time to appease a violent conflict between my friendship and my pride. I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made proper return. But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful niffynaffy fellow. But you have now disarmed my resentment and by a single mark of attention made up the quarrel. You must at least allow me a large stock of good nature._ ”

 

Angelica read faster, hardly believing her own eyes.

 

“ _Believe me my Dr Laurens I am not insensible of the first mark of your affection in recommending me to your friends for a certain commission. However your partiality may have led you to overrate my qualifications that very partiality must endear you to me; and all the world will allow that your struggles and scruples upon the occasion deserve the envy of men of vertue._ ”

 

“ _Adieu my Dear; I am sure you will exert yourself to save your country; but do not unnecessarily risk one of its most valuable sons. Take as much care of yourself as you ought for the public sake and for the sake of_

_Yr. affectionate_

_A Hamilton_ ”

 

“ _Have you not heard that I am on the point of becoming a benedict? I confess my sins. I am guilty. Next fall completes my doom. I give up my liberty to Miss Schuyler._ ”

 

Angelica felt a surge of anger at this description of her sister.

 

“ _We ought both my Dear Laurens to beg pardon of our friendship for mutual neglect in our correspondence, though I believe you are a good deal in arrears to me, and I am sure one of my letters must have miscarried._ ”

 

“ _Is it true that you are confined to Pennsylvania? Cannot you pay us a visit? If you can, hasten to give us a pleasure which we shall relish with the sensibility of the sincerest friendship._

_Adieu God bless you._

_A Hamilton_ ”

 

“ _I congratulate you my friend on our happy escape from the mischiefs with which this treason was big. It is a new comment on the value of an honest man; and if it were possible, would endear you to me more than ever._

_Adieu_

_A H_ ”

 

“ _The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you and Meade. Adieu_

 _A Hamilton_ ”

 

The flashes came faster, the sentences smaller and less distinct.

 

“ _My ravings are for your own bosom._ ”

 

“ _The stars fight against us my friend._ ”

 

“ _Adieu my beloved friend._ ”

 

“ _Adieu, be happy, and let friendship between us be more than a name."_

 

“ _In short Laurens I am disgusted with every thing in this world but yourself._ ”

 

“ _My Dear Laurens_ ”

 

“ _My Dr. Laurens_ ”

 

“ _My Dearest Laurens_ ”

 

“ _My dear, Laurens_ ”

 

“ _My Dear J_ ”

 

“ _My Dearest, Laurens_ ”

 

“ _MydearLaurensMyDearLaurensMyDearestLaurensMyDearLaurens_ ”

 

Angelica felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes as the words sped through her consciousness. Everything she thought she knew was going up in smoke.

The rug was being pulled out from under her feet and she was falling. Falling into an abyss in her own mind.

Soundlessly, she collapsed to her knees, relinquishing the letters. They scattered at her feet, and Laurens scrambled around her, gathering the papers before they were swept away by the winds.

She was crying. She knew that much. If she didn’t know anything else, she at least knew that the tears were spilling out from some well of anguish behind her eyes.

Laurens crouched by her side. She didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“Angelica, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Angelica barely heard him over her sobs.

And so they sat, Angelica coughing and crying, Laurens kneeling in semi-companionable silence by her side.

“Laurens …” Angelica said softly, wiping the tears away with a hand, “I … I didn’t know.”

“I know,” he murmured. “That was the whole point. I tried to keep it that way. And … I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Angelica asked, sniffling. “What do you have to be sorry about? If anything, the world needs to apologize to you.”

The corner of Laurens’s lip turned up into a slight smile. “Thanks. I appreciate the gesture. But I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I know it’s a lot to ask to keep this a secret, but you do understand what would happen if this got out, right?”

Angelica sighed. “Your career would be over. Your life would be ruined.”

Laurens dipped his head in agreement. “Yes. Yes it would.”

Angelica stood, grasping Laurens’s arm to pull him to his feet.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Tell no one.”

“I won't tell a soul.”

And with that, the two returned to the festivities, arm in arm, hearts lightened with the shared knowledge that neither would ever be satisfied.


	2. Bonus Chapter - A Guest Story Penned by the Estimable Amber_Lee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter written by a good friend of mine. I gave her the prompt and she ran away with it. I quite enjoy her writing, and would recommend you check her out. (I uploaded this 'cause I'm a lazy piece of garbage and I haven't come up with a good next tale yet.)

_ “A toast to the groom!” _

He didn’t look up. She made a toast to him and he didn’t seem to have any attention for her. His eyes and his focus seemed to be on his wife.

Angelica Schuyler felt jealousy twisting in her gut, making her want to either scream or vomit. Or both. She wanted to run out. Hide somewhere where nobody could find her and cry and yell.

But for the sake of Eliza, she stayed and continued.

_ “To the bride!”  _

That could have been her. She could have been the one sitting in that chair, holding on to Alexander’s arm and watching her sister make a speech. But somewhere she’d gone wrong. And she knew exactly where.

She spoke words. They came out too perfectly. She loved Alexander. She loved Eliza. They were wonderful, amazing people, and she had been blessed with having them both in her life. It was all true. But it was rehearsed. They were pre-written words, carefully chosen to express everything she felt without revealing herself.

And when it was over, Angelica didn’t think she could handle it anymore. She couldn’t handle the lies that she told with her encouraging words or false smiles. She couldn’t handle being around Alexander and watching him be with Eliza. His wife.

She pushed her way out of the hot, stuffy, overcrowded room. Hands grabbed her shoulders, her wrists, trying to pull her back, rein her in. But her job was done. She didn’t need to be there anymore, not really. Alexander and Eliza didn’t need her; they had each other. 

Angelica emerged from the building into the cool night air and stopped, letting it wash over her. 

_ I remember that night. I just might regret that night for the rest of my days. _

She faced the star-dotted sky and rubbed her hands over her face, only mildly surprised to find that it was wet with tears. She did remember. She almost wanted to forget it all. Would that make all of this easier, without the knowledge that it was all her fault?   


A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped. 

“Alex…” she yelped as she turned and quickly realized that Alexander wasn’t there. “Laurens! Lieutenant… Colonel… John Laurens. Sir. I can explain --”

“Shhh.” He put a finger to his lips and a hand on Angelica’s back and pushed her forwards gently. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Sir, I really --”

“Miss Schuyler, please.” She turned to face him, ready to argue, but stopped short when she realized that he had been crying too, and he looked about as happy as she felt. Curiosity bloomed in her chest. Why would  _ he  _ be unhappy at a time like this? Wasn’t Laurens Alexander’s best friend?

Angelica didn’t know what his motives were, but the desire to understand what was going on in Laurens’s head and for someone else to talk to led her to follow him. They stepped into the streets of New York City in silence. Angelica waited for Laurens to speak first. He didn’t.

“Lt. Col. --”

“Just-- John is fine.”

“John… if I may ask… what is the matter?”

Laurens sniffled,  _ actually  _ sniffled, before responding. “I think you and I are in the same situation.”

Angelica looked at him, confused. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her, as if he was embarrassed.

“What do you mean?”

_ You’re like me. I am never satisfied. _

“You love him, don’t you? Alexander?”

“I-- how did you know?”

Laurens chuckled.

Angelica felt the heat rising to her face and hoped that in the darkness Laurens couldn’t see the redness that came with it. She covered her mouth with her fingers, mortified. 

“Oh my God, is it really that obvious?”

John giggled like a little girl at her embarrassment. It really was rather bizarre, the two of them like this.

“Do you think he can tell?”

Laurens shook his head, still laughing slightly. “He’s oblivious. Believe me. To anyone besides Eliza.”

“And how would you know?”

“I…” He looked away. 

“John?”

“I know Alexander very well. I’ve seen people fall for him and he just… doesn’t seem to notice. He doesn’t realize when he’s leading people on or… planting hope in their minds that he might… you know.”

Angelica nodded. She knew. Something didn’t quite add up, however.

“But you said -- you said we were in the same situation.” Laurens said nothing, just continued to avoid looking at her. “John, what’s going on here? What are you so afraid to say?” She hesitated, for some reason doubting the theory blossoming in her head. “Is it Eliza? Do you…?”

“No, but you’re close.”

“John, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m not going to judge -- I mean, look at me.”

“No, but Angelica, it’s a little different for you.” He was beginning to sound frustrated. “You can love him without it ruining your whole  _ life _ .” 

“John, you --”

“Oh, shit.”

“You love him.”

“Shit.”

“Oh my God. John  _ Laurens!”  _

“Angelica!” He put his hand over her mouth. “Quiet down,” he whispered, and released her.

They were stopped now, in the middle of the street. Angelica was afraid to walk, because the world spinning around her made her nervous that she might simply lose her balance and topple to the ground.

“How long have you…”

“Since the first time we met -- Angelica you  _ cannot  _ tell  _ anyone. _ ”

“I -- I won’t. I promise. John Laurens…” she said breathlessly. She was laughing nervously. “And he doesn’t… Alexander doesn’t…” she cleared her throat, “he doesn’t feel the same way?”   


“Maybe he did, once.”

“But Eliza --”   


“Angelica, he hinted at it all the time. I don’t know if he knows or ever knew what I feel, but I am almost certain that at one point in time he unwittingly reciprocated. Now, he is utterly devoted to his wife but… years ago, when we first met…”

“John, what happened?”

“Nothing happened, exactly, but the things he said, especially when he was drunk and vulnerable…”

“What did he  _ say?”  _ Angelica pressed.

“In his letters he… he kept telling me, over and over again, that he loved me. But… I could never tell if he meant… you know, or if he just meant as a friend. He called me ‘my dearest, Laurens.’ He sometimes said that he hated everyone… Except for me… which isn’t really anything except that together with everything else… it sounded romantic. He --”

“No -- stop.” Angelica held up a hand. Her eyes were closed; she couldn’t have any visual input while she attempted to process it all. She was getting a headache. “Did he ever talk about Eliza?”

“Yes.”

“Did he… seem unhappy? With her?”

“Sometimes.”

“John…” 

“I thought, for a long time, that he wanted a future with me. Of course, we could never…” he trailed off, but Angelica understood. There were so many things Alexander and John would never have been able to do together that they would have deserved. “But Angelica… I believed that we would have been able to find a way. He made it sound like we would.”

Angelica felt a pang of regret. She knew what he meant. Alexander had done the same thing to her once.

But she had never received the letters that Laurens did. She couldn’t help but be jealous of that.

And she couldn’t help but be angry with Alexander for breaking so many hearts. Him and his words that would bring hope to so many and then shatter it, whether he meant to use his vocabulary like that or not. 

And she couldn’t help but feel sadness.

Neither she nor John would ever get to be with the man they loved. So many people in the world and they both happened to have settled on the one they couldn’t have.

_ He was right, I will never be satisfied. _

Angelica stumbled to the side of the road and collapsed against the wall of a building. She slid to the ground, her dress billowing out around her. She felt John sit down to her right. And then she was crying again, mourning all that could have been but never was, all she and Laurens could have had but never did.

The crying morphed into laughter.

What was she  _ doing _ ? How had things gotten so out of hand? Look at the two of them, slumped at the side of the road in the greatest city in the world in the middle of one of the greatest moments in history, and crying over something that had never existed.

“John, we have to get up. We have to go back.”

“I know.”

“You should tell Alexander.”

He raised his head to look at her. His eyes were wide. “You really think so? This is something that could ruin my reputation, my career, and his marriage.”

“You might be hurting him more by keeping something this big from him.”

“But Angelica, you see the problems with that? If I tell him, and he leaves Eliza, then people will ask questions he might feel obliged to answer truthfully, and both of our lives will be ruined. And --”

_ Then I turn and see my sister’s face and she is helpless. _

“Eliza. That would hurt her so much. But if he married her and he loves someone else, doesn’t that hurt her more?”

“No… because Alexander and I… we really wouldn’t be able to be together. He’s so happy with Eliza, and she’s so happy with him. And could we even conceivably hide from the public? The legal complications alone make this all but impossible. And I don’t want to give him a reason to feel haunted in an otherwise happy marriage.”

“I  see.” He had a very good point. It was awful that he would have to hide this but… his willingness to do so to save Alexander and Eliza was honorable and Angelica couldn’t say she hadn’t been doing the same thing for months.

_ If I tell her that I love him she’d be silently resigned. She’d say “I’m fine.” _

_ She’d be lying. _

Angelica stood, dusting off her skirts as best as she could. “I guess we’re both going to have to hold on to each other’s secrets --”

“-- And know that we’re not alone in this --”

“-- And get back to that godforsaken wedding.”

_ I know she’ll be happy as his bride. _

_ And I know he will never be satisfied. _

_ I will never be satisfied. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Amber_Lee for contributing your talents to this strange collection of stories.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Hamilton. I'm late to the game. AN: I may or may not continue this. I have several other projects in the works right now, and this has rather fallen by the wayside. I'd hate to curtail the story so soon after its inception, but I'd at least like to warn everyone that this may or may not continue.


End file.
